


While the Ship Cuts the Sea

by peenwolf (cissues)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Pirates, Polyamorous Scott, Polyamorous Stiles, Polyamory, everyone is kind of fucking everyone, except lydia, will add characters and relationships as the story progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-05
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3684213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cissues/pseuds/peenwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The <i>Nemeton</i>, a famed pirate ship captained by Scott McCall and his co-captain, Stiles Stilinski, sets sail after the introduction of four new members of their crew.  On the seas, no one can predict what complications will arise, especially with a runaway from a rival crew in their midst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While the Ship Cuts the Sea

**Author's Note:**

> I can NOT do descriptions right now. I am so sorry I hope y'all will forgive me.
> 
> This has been sitting in my folder for MONTHS and I love the writing of it so much and the concept and I love pirates so fucking HERE YOU GO.
> 
> The Nemeton crew is good and pure but the same cannot be said about other crews that may come along. I wrote this before the introduction of the new characters so I may or may not include them. Maybe they'll pick up Kira and Liam along the way? Who fuckin knows.
> 
> I'm going to try to make this a coherent series but it is not finished being written. Be patient.
> 
> Thank you! Hope you enjoy!

The _Nemeton_ , a huge ivory beauty that sails like she was crafted on the thrashing waves themselves. She sits pretty at Beacon Harbor where she spends her calmer days. Her captain, young and sunny Scott McCall, sits precariously along her bowsprit, booted feet dangling over the clear, shallow waters.

“Lookin’ a little glum there, Scotty boy.” Her co-captain, equally as young as her captain and about thrice as sharp, swings himself over her bowsprit to straddle the thin slice of wood. Scott blinks himself out of his thoughtful stupor to peer up at his co-captain. Stiles Stilinski has been sailing with him ever since they were mere cabin boys. The two were brothers, if not by blood than by bond.

“No, not really.” Scott responds, although his tone suggests otherwise.  
“C’mon, cap’n! Penny for your thoughts?”  
Scott watches Stiles’ hands expectantly for said penny, but none appears. When he realizes that his co-captain hadn’t meant it literally, he simply sighs and kicks a few barnacles off the side of the ship.  
“I was just thinking about how monotonous we’ve gotten. We’re making profit, sure, turning over dirty bourgeois ships and getting away without harming anyone, not really. But still, I can’t help but feel as if there’s something missing.”

Stiles studies his captain for a moment, eyes narrowed inquisitively.  
“Do you want to fight more? Maybe end a few useless lives while we raid? It could be a good change of pace.”  
Scott’s eyes widen and he immediately starts shaking his head.  
“They don’t call me Kind for nothin’, Stiles.”  
He’s, of course, referencing to his nickname given to him by the King’s men, Kind Captain McCall. Scott’s crew have vowed not to kill or maim any member of any crew in which they raid, instead finding cleverer and more useful ways of getting them out of the way (there have been more than a few enemy crews knocked into the ocean, but Scott always makes sure to knock over a boat with them as well.) 

There’s a hum from the co-captain, watching the waves as they roll languidly towards the shore.  
“We could search for others.” He says, finally. “Other pirates, I mean. Other crews to partner with who will agree to our non-violent terms. We’re infamous on the seas, Scott. Surely someone would be interested.”

Scott leans back onto the deck, stretching his back along the warmed wood, eyes fluttering closed.  
“Maybe we do need some fresh blood.” He responds. His thinning white shirt rucks up against his stomach and maybe Stiles peers at the dark, shining skin for a moment, but Scott doesn’t mind in the least. It’s not like his co-captain hasn’t seen it before, or won’t see it again. Perhaps tonight, it’s a nice night for some play.

“Fresh blood.” Stiles repeats, tongue sounding heavy. “Yes. That’s reasonable. Our numbers have dwindled.”  
Scott crosses himself briefly, eyes to the sky as he frowns, pain evident on his face. Despite their nonviolent nature, the world has never really reflected that back to them. He feels Stiles’ hand wrap around his calf, a solid weight to hold him down as they both take a moment to remember faces. Too many.

“ _With all her poor sailors, all sick and all sore…_ ” Stiles sung, softly.  
Scott smiled. “ _To me way hay, oh hi oh._ ”

The word gets out quickly that The _Nemeton_ was looking for members. Beacon Harbor is a small island, but it’s homely and it is safe for travelers of all class and creed, including the less savory of them. There is no law that touches Beacon and it exists fairly and justly with a thriving trade system full to the brim with merchants from far and low, good booze and beautiful women and a place to stay without fear of imprisonment or death. It is a good place, it is Scott’s favorite place and The _Nemeton_ is famed there so he and his crew often get only the best treatment.

They hold try-outs, or interviews, or maybe it was just a dinner. Scott isn’t completely sure as he doesn’t often look for his crew members purposefully. Many times they come to him, interested in his philosophies or escaping the abusive ways of other crews, or they would end up tagging along after a raid (their doctor, Deaton, was a tagalong from a trading ship they had raided a few years back). Now that Scott has decided to actively look for members, he finds himself overwhelmed.

The dinner is full of brown-nosers and kiss-asses, a few pretty blatantly only looking for the title of _Nemeton crew member_ , but there are a few that catch Scott’s eye and he notices Stiles’ gaze lingering on a few faces. There is a trio that Scott is especially fond of. A fierce looking woman with a glint in her eye, a beautiful cherub boy who is clearly sharper and cleverer than he looks, and a handsome, intelligent looking boy who watch over the other two protectively. Scott becomes infatuated with their dynamic, so familial and gentle. The girl would kiss one boy or the other on the cheek as a trade for a bite of their food. The cherub would nip playfully at her skin when she would get too close and her cackles fill the air. Scott has already made his decision. He looks back to gauge Stiles.

It appears as if his co-captain’s gaze has not left the face of a young man with pale, stinking flesh and matting black hair. The beard on the man’s cheeks is thick and dirty, but his clear blue eyes watch Stiles right back and they flash with something that Scott likes. He smiles, leaning in to whisper in Stiles’ ear.  
“You can have him.” He says and the grin that grows over his friend’s face is enough to tell him that they have their crew.

The evening is spent discussing their decision with their present crew. It’s a skeleton crew in the most crucial of ways. Lydia, Jackson, Danny, Deaton and the five others they have on board were great, but they don’t together have enough power to accomplish their goals. The crew is enthusiastic about the recruits, except for Lydia who is tentatively approving. Her reactions are taken into high account and the fact that she approves at all was a clear sign of how desperately they need new members.

Stiles and Scott decide to look for their fresh blood in the morning and instead take the evening for themselves.

Their voices soft, they murmur out a tune as their boots kick up the sand of the beach.

“ _... Then hoist every sail to the breeze,_  
Come, shipmates, and join in the song;  
Let's drink while the ship cuts the seas,  
To the gale that may drive her along.  
Ye sailors, I'm bound to my love,  
Ye sailors, I'm bound to my love,  
I've done with the toils of the seas,  
Ye sailors, I'm bound to my love.”

The two smile at each other, checking the surroundings for prying eyes before entwining their fingers together.  
“I saw your eyes on the lad.” Scott says, quiet and with a private smile. Stiles’ cheeks flare pink, fingers contracting briefly.  
“Um, well yes. He was… he looked strong.” He murmurs, eyes cast towards the sea. Scott chuckles, bumping his shoulder to Stiles’.  
“You know I don’t mind. I have affairs more often than you. It’s not as if we’re wed.”  
Stiles’ smile flickered briefly.  
“Yes. That’s true. We still act like it however, I would say.” His tone is almost defensive. Scott presses his nose into his friend’s neck, putting a tender kiss there.  
“I love you, Stiles. I do. As a brother and as a lover. Don’t you forget that. I want you to be happy in any way that makes you so. If that means you get to take the tall, dark man as yours then so be it.”

This got his co-captain smiling again.  
“You have such a way with words.” He says honestly, with only a slight twang of sarcasm. Scott beams, pressing their sides against one another, the cool moonlight glittering against the surface of the ocean.

The next morning is clear and warm and Stiles awoke in his captain’s bed (which is, secretly, his favorite way to wake) and they have a full day ahead of them full of recruiting and fun before next setting sail. Scott, Stiles and Lydia decide they would take the duty of approaching their fresh blood. They first find the trio that Scott had taken a fancy to sitting against the side wall of a store sharing a pastry between the three of them.

Slyly, Scott fit himself against one side of the trio while Stiles slid up onto the other, plopping themselves onto the floor and grinning at the startled vagabonds. 

“We noticed you last night at dinner.” Scott says, inspecting his ring-adorned hands. The three exchange looks with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.  
“We’re interested in taking you on if you’re up for it.”

With an air of shock, the trio nod dumbly, obviously only slightly aware of their actions as they rise with Scott and watch him.  
“Why?” The girl says, suddenly, her eyes wide. Scott shrugs. “You three were honest. And I enjoy your laughter.”  
The girl giggles and blushes and the other two seem to relax slightly. The cherub boy, especially, holds his gaze to Scott, occasionally flickering down the length of his body and up. Stiles does not miss this and gives his captain a sly smirk.

“Your names?” Scott asks, eyebrow raised accusingly though his smile is sweet. The girl clears her throat.  
“I’m Erica, this is Isaac,” she gestures to the cherub boy who flushes and curls his body inward as if trying to make his tall body smaller. “And this is Vernon.” She gestures to the sharp looking boy who gives them a salutary nod. Stiles sidles up next to Vernon.  
“I like this one.” He comments, leaning himself against Vernon’s side. “I like you.” He reiterates. Vernon raises a single brow, eyes narrowing by the slightest amount. “For your good looks and your boisterous personality, I would say.” He nearly gets slammed in the face by Vernon’s angry swing.  
Laughing jovially, he slinks over to his captain. “I congratulate your choice, cap’n.” He murmurs, still grinning. Lydia, who has been since then quiet, spoke up, eyes boring a hole in Erica’s shining face.  
“What is your greatest hope for the seas?” She asks accusingly, the venom in her voice sticky but Erica puffs her chest out. “I want to live a pirate’s life. I want to explore and plunder and leave behind my trace on this world.”  
Lydia watches her for a moment before smiling and nodding. “I like it.” She turned to Scott, pointing at the trio. “I like them. Let’s keep them.”  
Scott grins and ushers them towards the ship to help acquaint them to Nemeton before they would be setting sail.  
“I’ll leave you here. I have to find my tramp.” Stiles says with an excited glint to his eye. Scott winks at him and leads away his new recruits as Stiles breaks away, intent in his walk.

It only takes him another hour of looking before he finds his rapscallion in the back of the bar that hosted dinner, a cup cradled in his hand and a distant look in his eye, clearly drunk. Stiles approaches him carefully, but his smile is playful.  
“Don’t drink much more, we may need you to steer the ship.” He says, making sure he’s in clear view. He’s had one too many bad encounters with drunken, violent men and his need to be cheeky. The man glances up at him, eyes narrowed suspiciously before recognition dawns and he’s standing up fast and anxiously, the drunkenness pulling him off balance. “Sir,” He salutes clumsily, then stares at his hand as if confused why it would do such a thing. Stiles laughs at him, eyes twinkling as he takes in the man’s built figure and pretty features under scruff and dirt.  
“What’s your name, boy?” Stiles asks, excited at the prospect of messing with this drunken fool. “Derek H--” the man stops himself, staring indignantly at the table in front of him.  
“Derek H… Hurt, sir.” He winces at the obviously fake name and possible other implications. Stiles tries not to burst out in laughter.

Rounding the table, the co-captain gets himself comfy in Derek’s space, inspecting him closer. The man reeks, obviously homeless or at least without a proper home. The invasion of space makes Derek obviously uncomfortable. Stiles runs a finger over his dirty cheek, inspecting the dirt on his fingertip.  
“We’ll need to get you cleaned up, but you’ll do fine.”  
Derek frowns, looking a bit disturbed. “Fine for what?” He asks, not bothering to tack on the ‘sir’ perhaps because he forgot but probably in offense. Stiles just chuckles.  
“Fine for our crew, master Derek. I’m here to invite you to The _Nemeton_.” He grins as Derek slowly starts to break down. First it’s a disbelieving look of accusation, then it a growl of anger for misleading him, then it’s a realization that this is really happening, and then Derek falls back in his seat looking uncomfortable and windblown.

“Would you accompany me? Perhaps the brisk air will help you sober up on our walk to the peer.” He winks at Derek who simply nods numbly and follows without another word.

The _Nemeton_ feels crowded now with so many on board. Stiles had convinced Derek to wash at one of the inns in town, getting him a shave while he’s at it. It turns out that Derek, Erica, Vernon and Isaac all know each other, at least vaguely, from their days at street urchins. Derek seems to have only arrived on the island a few weeks ago and won’t explain where he had been before. He’s a good worker, though, and The _Nemeton_ crew never discriminated against someone’s past. Lydia has most definitely ended a life or two of her own before now and the Lord only knows what Deaton has done. Scott trusts them, though. He’s happy with what he’s got.

Stiles, however, is much more prying. His curiosity has gotten them into trouble on multiple occasions. From his joking and loud personality, to his unwarranted prying, Stiles has been the one to start more than a few bar fights and one or two full on battles. The crew would not be the same without him, though, and Scott would not trade him for all the bounty of the sea.

The ship sets sail within hours of the new recruits joining the crew and before long, Beacon Harbor is swallowed by the roiling ocean.

Isaac, Vernon, and Erica get to work tightening down items on deck and eventually retire to the hold to finish a few mundane tasks, obviously imprinted in their memories. Derek, however, seems aimless. He leans against the railings, staring out at the sea.

Scott eyes their newest recruit, Stiles stationed at his side.

“Check on him.” Scott orders, though soft it is. Stiles nods and saunters across the deck, looking forcibly casual until he is able to lean his back against the railing beside his scamp.

“Feeling the sickness of the sea, Hurt?” He asks, eyebrow quirked. Derek glances over, face making a complicated gesture before his gaze returns to the sea.  
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen her like this.” He admits, scanning the vast black-blue of the waters. Interest piqued, Stiles straightens his posture and sidles closer.  
“How long?” He asks, searching the other man’s eyes.  
Derek sighs, chin dropping to his chest. “Too long. Do you have orders for me, sir?”  
Not having the willpower to resist, Stiles grins and his eyebrows move suggestively up and down. “Plenty.” He purrs, getting ever closer. “But for now, you can check the sail’s ropes. Make sure they are tight and secure.”  
Derek, cheeks blushed a satisfying pink, salutes the co-captain and scurries off towards the fore mast. Stiles snickers privately and watches the man go, eyes lingering on the intimate parts of the man’s body.

Stiles has admitted to being an appreciator of the human body, no matter which and in what form. He loves to look, unabashed, at beautiful people and occasionally he enjoys the carnal pleasures of them as well. However, he has been known to be a gentle and respectful lover, though loose as he is. Captain McCall attests to this often and loudly, proud of the good nature of his crew.

Out of everyone on deck, Lydia is the one body Stiles has yet to feast on, no matter his trying. She says she has a lover in some distant land and refuses to give into the bodily needs that usually accompany those at sea. She has never revealed and never will reveal the name of her love, but she is fiercely devoted and more than anything, Stiles appreciates that.

“He is a tough one.” She says, suddenly at Stiles’ side. He hums, accustomed to her floating nature, often appearing of thin air with a biting remark on her tongue.  
“Are you sure you should pursue? Not every man is want for another man. Perhaps you should keep yourself tethered down on this one. You never know the consequences.” She looks warning, but her voice is more amused than anything.  
Stiles laughs, loud and exuberant. “Lydia, my dear,” he says with a twinkle in his eye, “that is the biggest fun of it all.”


End file.
